


Between the sheets

by Sansastarklives



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansastarklives/pseuds/Sansastarklives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marriage AU oneshot that takes place between Sansa's marriage to Tyrion and the purple wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the sheets

     Sansa’s shaking hands wrapping around the goblet, lifting it to her lips so that she could gulp the sweet wine. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the day. Footsteps sounded from behind as he walked towards her. His hands cups her hips gently, his lips brushing against the curve where neck met shoulder. Sansa’s gaze fixed on the silks of her dress, the great tear at her thigh from when she had fell merely hours before. She had been sure they were going to execute her in the dead of night when the guards had led her to the gardens. Running had seemed a good option until she tripped over a branch, falling flat on her face.

     He swept her hair to one side, slowly unlacing the back of her gown, his lips working over the exposed skin. Sansa simply clutched the goblet closer to her chest, unsure what to do. Did she even want this? She had been the one who invited him to her chamber, her new husband. She had known what it meant, to invite her husband to her chambers on the night of their wedding. Why had she done it?

      His mouth moved with a torturous speed over the curve of her bottom, gathering the hem of her shift in his hands. _That was why._ He had kissed her neck earlier, his hand against her thigh when he whispered words of praise. How strong she had been, married to that _imp_. How simple it had been for an unconsummated marriage to be annulled, he had smirked. That was why she had invited him, so another marriage could not be ended as easily. She had known it was not truly her own idea when she invited him to her chambers after the ceremony… if it could be called that.

     Their marriage had taken place in the dark of the gardens, only the Septon present, barely an hour after her annulment had been announced, a more prosperous marriage having been put in place for Tyrion Lannister. How he had managed to persuade Cersei for Sansa’s hand in marriage, she didn’t know. When the cool air hit her naked flesh, she wasn’t sure she cared.

      His hands gripped her hips tightly after turning her to face him. His grey-green eyes burned with a hunger she had never seen. They raked over her body, a smirk on his lips. Her cheeks blushed, a feeling of vulnerability filling her at being so exposed for another. Embarrassment fixed her gaze on his clothed chest. “Petyr…” His hands caught her wrists before she could cover herself, bringing them to his face to dust her knuckles with gentle kisses.

       “You’re beautiful, Sansa.” The tone of his words held another meaning: _you’re mine._ “Don’t you trust me?” He had been her Mother’s friend once. Petyr had been the one to offer her an escape on his ship, he had offered to take her home. However there was so much about this man that Sansa did not know, even if she had been willing to escape with him weeks before, did that mean that she trusted him? Her silence was an answer in itself, not a surprising one, judging by Petyr’s chuckle. “Do you trust me more than the Lannisters?” His fingers hooked beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

       He lowered his head, littering kisses against her forehead, cheeks, jaw, until his lips finally met her own. He moved her backwards, until the backs of her legs hit the frame of the bed, lowering her on to it. “They’ve taken from you for so long, Sweetling.” He murmured, kissing his way along her collarbone. “They’ve taken your family,” he moved to a breast, his teeth gently tugging at her nipple, making her hum in pleasure. “Your freedom.” Lips trailed down her stomach, a smirk on his lips. “Your chance for love.” He nipped at her hipbone. “Your freedom.” He suckled the skin of her inner thigh, the hair of his beard making her giggle. “Your power.” A long lip against her folds caused her to gasp in half surprise, half pleasure. “Take it back, Sweetling.”

      She knew his honeyed words, and gentle touches were all to mould her, to give him what he wanted. Since she was a young child, she had been told that men wanted her ‘gift,’ her maidenhead. Despite his tricks and scheming, Petyr was still just a man, wanting the naked flesh of a woman. Of her. She had, however, never been told how good it would feel, to have a man atop of her. That his head between her legs would cause her to moan like a wanton.

     He was right though: the Lannisters had taken so much from her, and if she didn’t consummate the marriage, they could take his away from her too. Sansa’s hips moved in time to his tongue, chasing the building in her stomach, until it took over, her body shaking, as a moan rippled from her lips. A self-satisfied smile spread across Petyr’s lips as he rose to face her, settling between her legs.

      _Please_ , she wanted to say. _Show me how, please_. She wanted to make them pay, but she was done with begging, she had begged to the guards, to the Lannisters, to the Gods. Unsure hands wrapped around his back, her lips brushing against his own. “I want it all.” He groaned at that, and with a shifting of his hips, and a pained cry, a promise was sealed between man and wife.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't wrote anything for a while, I hope you didn't hate it.   
> Any comments would be great, thank you.


End file.
